


Three Pill Problem

by dontbecooler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Just smut, Little bit of humor in there, M/M, Smut, Viagra, but smut mostly, fun to write haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock participated in an experiment and he needs John to help him out of it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Pill Problem

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry all of these are Johnlock but not many people write anything else :P Other author is 221b-bound on tumblr, she's lovely! Do go give her a follow if you like this :) Also I'm tumblring too so... (superwhofuck-withyoutubers wow so original (it's a fandom blog so yay for self-promotion :P))

**_John I need your help. SH_ **

 

_Jesus Christ, Sherlock, I'm sleeping. This had better be important. JW_

 

**_I was participating in an experiment and its gone wrong. SH_ **

 

_Are you okay? JW_

 

**_I'm fine... SH_ **

 

_Is the flat okay? JW_

 

**_Yes the flat is fine! SH_ **

 

_Then why do I have to wake up? JW_

 

**_Because for the experiment I took three Viagra and I think might be a little bit of an over dosage. My heart rate is slowly going up. I thought since you are a doctor you would know what to do... SH_ **

 

_...I'll be downstairs as soon as I stop laughing. JW_

 

Sherlock snarled at his phone, trying not to look at his throbbing erection. He covered it with a pillow, slightly light headed.

He laid his head on the back of his seat, trying very hard not to touch himself as his body begged him to. Maybe this experiment had been a bad idea.

 

John went downstairs as promised, promptly bursting into laughter again when he saw Sherlock sitting there, lap covered in a pillow and looking horribly uncomfortable. It was fucking hilarious.

He supported himself with one hand on the wall, taking gulps of air to try and stop the giggles. "Oh my... I'm s-sorry, it's just, _why_ did you, I mean-" He shook his head. " _Three_?"

 

Sherlock frowned. "The effect of two wore off after a few... Releases. So," Sherlock held up his graph of data, "I took three. Nothing I do will make _it_ go down." He spat, taking a breath in through his nose. "This isn't funny John!" He growled.

 

John nodded, mock-serious. "No, not funny at all." He wiped at his eyes. "Fucking hell. So you've tried...? Wait, you've been doing that in our sitting room? Jesus! Have some class would you?"

His expression went from amused to displeased. Apparently with Sherlock the 'no masturbating in shared areas' rule had to be stated aloud.

 

Sherlock gave John a flat expression. "Don't be so offended. I know why you have twenty minute showers." He snorted at John’s expression. "You might want to be bit quieter next time; we wouldn't want Mrs. Hudson hearing anything would we." He curled his lip up in a terrifying version of a smile.

 

John's mouth hung open for a good twenty seconds before he reclaimed the presence of mind to close it.

"Yeah well... I'm not the one who took three fucking Viagra." He sighed. "I'm assuming you don't want to go to the hospital to get the blood drained, so... You haven't been able to, um... finish?" He felt his face heat up; this was _not_ a comfortable subject. Especially at this ridiculous hour of the night when his mental filter was all but gone and all of the thoughts about Sherlock he tried very hard to keep out were slowly creeping in.

 

"Of course I've been able to bring myself to orgasm. Note the tissues on the floor." Sherlock had never been one for censoring or being bashful over such topics.

"I researched and found out that, like when getting a massage, a hand job from another person is a lot more satisfying than one from yourself." He narrowed his eyes as John paled. "I'm not asking _you_ to do, but if you would be so kind as to find me someone who would be willing and won't give me a sexually transmitted disease that would be great."

 

John scrunched his forehead in confusion, trying to focus on what Sherlock was asking of him rather than pointedly not looking at the aforementioned tissues. "So... you want me to go out and find you a prostitute, but, um, a classy one."

 

"If it’s too much hassle then please, ask one of your desperate friends to come get me off. Please that it would be much more satisfying for me if you find a male friend, not a female."

 

"I am _not_ calling one of my friends at two in the morning to give my flat mate a hand job. No." John crossed his arms over his chest.

He tried to put himself into doctor-mode, finding the problem and figuring out a treatment. "Besides, it probably wouldn't work. It's going to end with the same result; you do realize when they say another person they mean somebody you like, right? Because otherwise it's no different from just touching yourself."

 

Sherlock frowned. "There is no one I like willing to give me a hand job." Is all he said flatly, screwing up his face and huffing. "Would the situation be different if one of your friends gave me a blowjob?"

 

"You hate all of my friends, so probably not. And even if it would, I'm still definitely not asking." John chewed at his lower lip, thinking. He tried very hard not to blush harder at Sherlock saying the word blowjob, which was very erotic for some explainable reason.

"You've got somebody you like, so... have you thought of them while you've... y'know. That might work."

 

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. "There would be now other way for me to get off if I didn't think of them." He made a contemplating expression. "In fact, before this person came into my life I hardly masturbated at all."

 

John nodded thoughtfully, as if this information didn't make him irrationally upset. Which it did. He hated being overtired, he really did.

"Right, well, how do you know they won't help you out?" He wondered, rather than demanding to be told who it was so he could hate them forever. He was trying to be a good friend, not pry. It wasn't fun.

 

Sherlock felt like smirking. "Because multiple times this person has said, and I quote, 'I am not gay!', so I am going to respect him and not ask for him to go over their boundaries."

 

Well, John thought, what kind of idiot paraded around announcing that when Sherlock fucking Holmes was willing to... oh.

"Oh." He blinked, not saying anything for far too long. "Yeah, well... people say all sorts of silly things, really, and maybe they aren't gay, in fact they aren't but sexuality is a very complex thing and maybe they really regret saying that so many times." He babbled, feeling at once giddy and terribly embarrassed. Stupid, too. And more than a little aroused. He felt so much so quickly that he was getting a bit dizzy, actually.

 

Sherlock felt a rush of elation. "For once John I praise you on your deduction skills." His erection ached; he really needed something done about this. "But while we dance around your sexuality I am still in a predicament. So please John," Sherlock made his voice go low, as he noticed John was watching him with dilated pupils and his pajama pants were more than a little tented, "would you like to help me?" His baritone rumbled.

 

"Ah... yes, that... I would, yes." John swallowed nervously, finally walking to Sherlock and standing in front of him awkwardly. "So... what do I... should I just...?" This was a terribly unusual situation, as most situations with Sherlock were. He wasn't sure whether or not to dive right in. When he thought about it, he didn't really want to do that he wanted... more.

So, he leant forward and kissed Sherlock tentatively.

 

Sherlock sighed, involuntarily thrusting upwards to get friction.

The pillow fell away, but at present time Sherlock only thought about the soft lips on his, not his bare erection. "John," Sherlock breathed.

The detective had kissed a lot of people in his time but none had elicited such reactions from his body and mind. For once, instead of whirling with pointless thoughts they said only one thing. _John_.

Sherlock gasped at this realization, letting John straddle his hips and make his tongue run over his teeth. Sherlock pulled him closer; he needed to feel all of his blogger. He needed it. "John," Sherlock moaned.

 

John moaned, curling his fingers in Sherlock's hair, any hesitance he had been feeling completely gone upon hearing his name in that delicious tone.

He rolled his hips down to help ease some of Sherlock's discomfort, as well as his own. "Fuck, Sherlock..." He gasped against his lips, he was so gorgeous and perfect and _Sherlock_ , John could hardly believe it was happening.

 

Sherlock stood, bringing John up with him. He towered over him companion, and his dressing gown was open to his bare form. For the first time in his life Sherlock wondered what if his friend didn’t like what he saw.

Pushing the thoughts away Sherlock cupped Johns face, pressing him against the wall so his whole form would be against Sherlock’s. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Sherlock pulled away.

"How far are we going with this?" He gasped, putting one hand on John’s hip and the other on his own cock, now almost so irresistible to his own hand he wanted so much to touch himself.

 

John nearly whined at the loss of Sherlock's lips, staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't... I don't care, Sherlock, I just want you." He nudged his hips forward to illustrate his point, tilting his head and pressing his lips to Sherlock's neck, kissing and sucking.

He slid his hand down Sherlock's chest, nudging his hand away and replacing it with his own, rubbing Sherlock to make him _shut up_ because John just wanted and wanted, to touch him or suck him or anything.

 

Sherlock’s eyes nearly rolled into his head.

Surely when they had said it felt good they didn't mean so good he might very well pass out.

Sherlock rolled his neck, letting John get more access while the detective tried to do something with his hands. "Ohmygod," Sherlock breathed.

What to do with his hands!! He had no idea. To settle the dispute in his mind between Johns entire body or just his dick, he decided on both, trailing one hand down to mirror Johns movements on his own cock, and using the free hand to trace along his hair, his jaw, chest, arm, anything really.

He thrust feebly, not knowing what he wanted but thinking that he just might want it _all_.

 

John moaned approvingly against his neck, kissing trails up and down the expanse of it.

He rocked his hips forward against Sherlock's hand, eyes sliding shut in pleasure. With his free hand, he pulled at the ties of Sherlock's dressing gown, wanting everything off, wanting to see every bit of Sherlock.

He'd never wanted so much in his life. And the _sounds_ Sherlock made, John wanted to record it all so he could listen to it on repeat, it was so incredible. He sounded needy, desperate. It was gorgeous.

He licked a long stripe up his neck, pressing a few kisses to his jaw when he reached it. Then, he curled his hand around Sherlock's erection and began stroking him properly, finding Sherlock's lips again with his own.

 

Sherlock was making little mewling noises. The things John could do with his tongue against his lips were heaven. "Cock," he managed to choke out as his dressing gown fell off his shoulders.

He could feel his pre-cum dripping down his length and he really needed something to happen right now or he was sure he would spontaneously combust. He hooked his hands into John dusty hair, desperately pressing down.

"Cock," he repeated, using one hand to palm John’s erection through his pajamas.

 

John kissed him for a few more seconds, savoring it before pulling away. “Mm, relax, Sherlock. I've got you." He murmured. He trailed his lips down Sherlock's neck again, not stopping once he reached his shoulders, kissing down and down until he was facing Sherlock on his knees, Sherlock's very prominent erection displayed before him.

He licked up the length of it before taking the head of it into his mouth. He'd never done this before, but he'd been on the receiving end and had a pretty good idea of how it worked, flicking his tongue over the tip as he sucked gently.

 

Sherlock’s knees buckled. He was going to say something along the lines of _'Oh my fucking god keep doing that I'm about to black out'_ , but his mind wasn't working so all that came out was a garbled noise followed by little mewls and hisses. He didn’t want to push John into it but he needed his whole cock being worked.

He thrust upwards, stopping himself as he leant his head forward to balance his forehead on the wall where John had been previously.

It was hot and everything was blurry and there was wet heat and _teeth,_ suddenly little bits of teeth dragging up along him he couldn't take he felt like he was in some sort of pleasurable torture and for some reason he wouldn't come, he couldn't. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut.

He began damning and praising the drug he had taken, not allowing him to fall off the edge but also letting him stay there because Sherlock was sure that he wouldn't have lasted half the time if he was just himself.

 

John hummed, putting a hand on Sherlock's hip to reassure him as well as keep him steady so John could figure it all out. He took Sherlock deeper into his mouth, as far as he could without choking, and sucked. He moved his head up and down on his cock, it was oddly pleasurable, tasting Sherlock and hearing him come undone, though the idea of sucking somebody off had never appealed to him before.

He moaned around Sherlock, wrapping his hand around what he couldn't take in and stroking, the hand on his hip gripping tighter.

 

Johns moan went straight through him. He was hyperventilating, and there wasn't enough blood going to his brain.

John John John John John.

That was his only thought. The only thing that mattered. "John," he growled, feeling like he would fall over. He thought about John’s hand. The one on his hip and the one on his cock.

Sherlock huffed; pulling on John’s hair to stop himself crying out, stop himself biting through his lip.

 

It felt so good to have Sherlock so desperate for him, to have him pulling his hair because he wanted him. It made John moan again, louder, and move faster.

Sherlock had asked him to give him release, more or less, and John was damn determined to do so. He sucked harder, letting go of him and cupping his balls in his hand, trying to stimulate as much as he could. He felt saliva drip down his chin but he couldn't possibly care less, so focused on bringing Sherlock pleasure.

 

It was coming, the tidal wave that began rising in his abdomen, becoming so big that he barely gasped Johns name as warning before he was shaking and taking in breaths that were almost like sobs.

He was pulsing down John’s throat and it was too much and his head was going silent and there was white light and Sherlock froze. He pulled John up by his hair and kissing his own taste of John lips and falling into him.

"John," he breathed, thinking that the name was only thing left in his vocabulary.

 

John swallowed as best he could before he was yanked up and thoroughly kissed, pressed up against the wall by Sherlock's weight. He moaned against Sherlock's lips, supporting him with arms wrapped securely around his middle. "Sherlock, oh god..." He panted, subtly rocking against Sherlock's hip, head back against the wall. "Ah, Sherlock, you're so perfect, Jesus you're amazing."

He rutted against him a bit quicker, so aroused from so little stimulation. The visual was all he needed, really, because Sherlock was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and watching him, _feeling_ him come undone was the hottest thing he'd ever experienced.

 

Sherlock smiled against his lips, finally feeling his cock, the thing that had been so tense for quite a while, relax. He palmed John’s pants, putting one hand down to wrap his hand around the shaft, pumping slowly. He knew it wouldn't take long for his blogger to come undone, his whole frame shaking and the breaths he was panting out being a very good sign.

Finding his voice, Sherlock put his lips by John’s ear. "So beautiful, you," Sherlock growled, nipping at the lobe. "I want to see you, feel you come in my hand, will you do that for me?" John nodded desperately. Sherlock had never thought himself one for dirty talk, but it seemed appropriate.

"You're going to come in my hand and I'm going to lick you off me and then I'm going to mark you mine. I'll lay against you naked and I'll be against you and you'll be mine. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes, Sherlock, please!" John thrust helplessly into his hand, that deep voice driving him crazy with desire. He was close, so very, very close but Sherlock was stroking him so tortuously slowly.

He mewled, hands scrabbling at Sherlock's back, blunt nails raking as he tried to find some purchase. "More, Sherlock. I need more, please, please." John could barely see straight, all he could focus on was Sherlock, his hand and his deep, sinful voice.

 

Sherlock breathed down John’s neck, speeding up as he tried to find more things to say. "After this, we'll be together, I'll get to fuck you so hard, and you'll get to return the favor." John was leaning into him, almost all of his weight. "Come for me John," he hissed, pumping so quickly and nipping John’s ear in a rhythm.

He had his other hand on John’s waist, holding him steady.

 

John cried out, going rigid as he came, nails digging into Sherlock's back. It had never in his life felt that good, that powerful. He couldn't even process it, all he could think was how good it felt and who had done that to him, made him feel that way.

He tangled one of his hands in Sherlock's hair and pulled him into a kiss, desperate for him, needy little noises coming unbidden past his lips. "Sherlock, yes..." He mumbled, bones turning to jelly as he let Sherlock support him.

 

Sherlock grinned. Never in his life had he felt so happy with making someone else come undone. Still smiling, he picked up a boneless John in his arms like a bride.

John chuckled into him, slightly lethargic, as Sherlock, who had long since recovered from his pleasure, bounded up the stairs to John’s room.

He jumped onto the bed, maneuvering John quickly so they were spooning on top of the covers. Sherlock wrapped himself around his blogger. He put his chin on John’s neck, smiling and breathing in his scent.

 

John sighed happily, feeling Sherlock at his back one of the greatest feelings in the world. He took one of Sherlock's hands in his holding it against his chest as they lay together.

"Mm, so..." He murmured, entangling their legs. "I helped solve the problem?" He smiled impishly.

 

"Yes," Sherlock smiled, "But you've created one of the best problems in its place," Sherlock added, kissing trails along Johns neck. "I'll forever be allowed to be turned on around you." He breathed a happy sigh. "Thank you John."

 

"Hm, my pleasure." John answered honestly, closing his eyes and focusing on Sherlock's gentle ministrations. He shivered slightly at Sherlock's cool breath on his neck, but it still felt good, very touch, every word, every breath.

"That was the weirdest sort of seduction I've ever had the pleasure to experience." He mumbled, eyes growing heavy. It was nearly four, not that John minded in the least. He would never complain about Sherlock waking him up ever again. Probably.


End file.
